


An Ass

by Flame_05



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Whump, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Comedy, John Whump, Light-Hearted, Protective Hosea Matthews, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27377362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flame_05/pseuds/Flame_05
Summary: "You're an ass, Marston."Fed up of hearing them squabble, Hosea sends Arthur and John out on a job together.When they unknowingly annoy a witch, very strange things happen.
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

New short story series! You all voted for a comedic, light hearted one after the darkness of 'The House' and so 'An Ass' will hopefully cause a chuckle or two. With this pandemic, a wee chuckle is what we all need!

☆☆☆

“You’re an ass, Marston”

Hosea sighed in annoyance for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, as he rustled his paper indignantly and tried, yet again, to get back to a relaxing morning read. 

Not far off, John muttered under his breath as Arthur glared at him from across the fire. The two men had been insufferable for the past week, at one another’s throat considerably more than usual. Hosea’s patience was wearing so thin, it had become see-through.

“What has those two so riled up?” Susan asked from behind his shoulder. 

Sighing again, Hosea lowered his paper and shrugged at her. “With those two, who knows. I stopped guessing at that years ago.” 

Susan chuckled for a moment, moving away before pausing to add, “well if they keep this up it’s going to affect camp morale. They need to get their heads on straight and at least try to be civil to one another.” She headed off in the direction of the girls, leaving Hosea nodding to himself in agreement with her words.

Frowning, he watched as John picked up a twig from the ground, then chuck it towards Arthur. It plopped right into Arthurs mug of coffee, and both men stilled for a moment before leaping to their feet at the same time. Arthur moving towards John, and John trying to dart away towards his tent.

“MARSTON you utter ass” Arthur roared, while John cursed him in return.

Enough, Hosea thought. 

Sighing once more he folded his newspaper and got to his feet, moving towards the two men and having to remind himself that they were in fact, grown men, and not a couple of bickering children.


	2. Hosea Has Spoken

“Will you two just give it a rest? I thought you’d grown out of this behaviour” Hosea grumbled as he approached the two men, who both turned to look indignantly at him and opened their mouths simultaneously to protest.

“No, enough.” Hosea held his hand up to silence whatever they had been about to say, and for a moment his annoyance was replaced with mirth as the sight of the two men sheepishly looking away reminded him of them in their youth. His mirth didn’t last long however, when he reminded himself that he was facing two grown men acting like bickering children. Even Jack was better behaved. 

“Everyone has had more than enough of listening to the two of you being at each other’s throat, god knows I’ve had enough of it! You need to get out on a job.” The two men mumbled agreements and started to move off in opposite directions, halting mid step when Hosea loudly added, “together!”

John frowned at Hosea as Arthur shook his head, “I’m not going anywhere with that ass, Hosea, not happening”. 

“Forget it Hosea, I’d rather work a job with the Pinkertons than Arthur Morgan” John chimed in, sounding just as childish as Arthur did. “Calling me an ass, better an ass than a big dumb oaf like him! I’ve heard more sense come from my horse!”

“Probably because the animal is all your tiny brain can understand”

“And what would you know about understanding anything” John spat back as the bickering continued.

Hosea signed impatiently, speaking over the two of them he announced “well I have nothing to say to either of you until you grow up” and he heard the two men pause as he turned his back on them.

“Oh come on, Hosea” Arthur grumbled, as Hosea turned back to stare him down.

Hosea glared back at Arthur until the man gave an exasperated sigh and gestured with his arms in defeat. “Fine then, on your head be it, Hosea” Arthur grumbled before turning to John, “Marston, get saddled up, I might have a good opportunity in a town a days ride away.” 

“Thank you, Arthur” Hosea smiled at the glare he got in return, before turning to John to admonish him, “make an effort will you, John? You two are meant to be brothers.” 

“Yeah well tell him that!” John spluttered back in exasperation before closing his mouth after seeing Hosea’s expression. “Alright then. A days ride away. A day for the job. A days ride back.” John mused out loud, “three days. We can last three days without tearing each other’s throats out, right Morgan?”

“Shoar, now quit yabbering and go saddle up already” Arthur half-heartedly grumbled back.

Hosea lit a cigarette at the same time as trying to light hope that the two men would return in better spirits. A few days on a low risk job together, nothing could possibly go wrong, he assured himself.


	3. Don't Screw It up

The whole camp seemed to let out a collective breath as the two men rode out from camp, eager for a few days free from their incessant arguing. 

John stubbornly rode a few metres behind Arthur, determined to minimise the chance for any conversation. 

Arthur, meanwhile, could not have cared less. He’d relented to Hosea and agreed to take John out on a job, but he hadn’t promised to be nice, or even civil. Hell, the fewer words spoken between them the better, in Arthur’s opinion. 

“So, what exactly is this job anyway?” John broke the silence a few hours into their ride.

Arthur sighed, contemplating pretending not to have heard, when John whistled for his attention. Biting down the short tempered response of ‘I’m not a dog, Marston’, Arthur instead replied, “just some feller might be worth robbin’ that’s all.”

“That don’t sound much like a two man job” John retorted, sounding as much annoyed as he did humoured.

“This were Hosea’s idea remember, Marston, not mine” Arthur huffed back. They rode in quietude for a few minutes until, reluctantly, Arthur broke the silence himself this time. “I got a tip off, from a reliable source, that this feller carries obscene amounts of cash on him, wins big at poker, then gets drunk as a goat and stumbles off to sleep in whatever alley he ends up in. Barely remembers a thing the next morning. I’ve watched him a few times now and shoar thing, the man is a rich drunkard fool.“

“So why haven’t you robbed him already?” John piped up, urging his horse closer now to better hear Arthur.

“I needed to be sure first, ain’t no point in robbin’ a feller with nothing much to gain, or to only end up with the law behind me. I was planning on gon’ back soon anyway, before Hosea got on at us”.

“So all we got to do is reach this town, wait in the bar for this man to get drunk, rob him blind then get on out of there?” John sounded optimistic. If they made it back to camp in a couple of days time, pockets filled with cash and having caused no trouble anywhere, then Hosea was bound to leave them be for a while. “Sounds good"

"Just don't screw it up, Marston" Arthur grumbled, returning them to silence for the rest of their ride.


	4. Strange Happenings

By afternoon the next day both Arthur and John were sat in the hotel, dressed nicely under the guise of being two travelling salesmen, all the while keeping an eye out for the unfortunate man whom they were there to rob. 

They were bored, and the humid, sticky air stole what little patience they had and soon they went from sitting in silence to arguing with each other in hushed tones, impatience turning to frustration.

The man was still playing poker, and it looked like several hours yet till he would be drunk enough for their plan to work. Arthur and John had had a drink or two themselves while waiting, not enough to have gotten merry but just enough to allow their distaste for one another to cloud their judgement. Throwing childish insultsat one another they forgot their ruse of imitating salesmen.

Talking over each other, their arguing was far from decent and eventually a lady sitting near them slammed her hand on the table and, with exasperation, declared “well I never!”

Arthur and John both stopped mid sentence, blinking confusedly at her, oblivious as to the disruption they had been causing. 

“Would you gentlemen kindly act your age and have some respect for this establishment.” She haughtily snapped at them.

“Sorry ma’am” John croaked in embarrassment.

“Deepest apologies, it must be the whiskey” Arthur mumbled sheepishly.

“Well then.” The lady glared at them for a long moment more before returning to her meal.

Not two minutes later and John had decided, for no real reason, to throw a fork at Arthur, who of course did not take it with good humour.

“Marston, you ass!” Just as Arthur made to lunge towards John, the lady beside them huffed, Arthur barely sparing her a glance before doing a double take. John followed his gaze and frowned in bewilderment.

The lady was trembling, humming and her eyes had entirely glazed over. Arthur swatted at his ears as an intense buzzing made his head spin, meanwhile John was scratching at his arms against the feeling of a thousand ants crawling on him.

Arthur squinted at John, discovering the man to appear in as much discomfort as himself, then looked back to the lady.

Her eyes had turned completely white, and her trembling now gave her a blurred appearance, as the mumbled whispering came from her direction but not from her mouth. Arthur frowned again, wondering whether he had had more to drink than he realised.

Looking around the hotel, it seemed that no one else had noticed the strangeness, in fact no one else had noticed at all. Arthur gasped as the pain in his head intensified, and turned to John to shout that they should get the hell out.

Instead of hearing Johns ratchy voice reply, Arthur heard a…noise. 

Barely keeping his eyes open through the pain, Arthur squinted at John, who opened his mouth and again made the most peculiar sound. For a moment Arthur forgot his own pain as worry swamped him, John was looking positively grey.

Arthur turned back to the lady, determined to tell her to stop whatever the hell she was doing, but as he tried to stand he instead found himself slumping over on to the hard wooden floor, and darkness engulfed him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was slouched against the wall of an outbuilding in the hotel gardens, daylight and morning dew all around. Arthur raised a hand to rub his eyes, feeling groggy but otherwise glad that the pain was gone. What on earth had they been drinking?

“What in the hell was that, Marston?” He growled, only to be met by silence. He looked around, then hurriedly stood and looked again.

John was not with him.


	5. An Ass

After having searched the hotel grounds thoroughly, Arthur surprised himself with the worry growing in his belly. Marston was a grown man, he could damn well take care of himself so why should Arthur be worried?

The face of the lady the night before came to the forefront of his memory, and that worry grew stronger.

“What in the hell was her game?” Arthur wondered aloud.

Taking a steady breath to calm himself, he decided the best course of action was to go back into the hotel and hope that the bartender could tell him what had happened the night before or, better still, he might find John inside.

It would be typical of Marston to leave Arthur sleeping out in the dirt and have gone inside to get himself a hot breakfast.

Convincing himself of that truth, Arthur started mumbling curses at John under his breath as he turned to go inside, but halted mid step.

John’s boots. John’s boots were lying in a hedge not ten feet in front of him. Moving closer, Arthur spotted his waistcoat, and hat, too.

“Marston?” Arthur called out, frowning as he discovered John’s pants lying on the ground too. Was the man running around drunk and naked?

“Marston, you ass, will you answer me dammit?” Arthur shouted. 

The noise he heard in response, was certainly not Marston.

“I weren’t talkin’ to you” Arthur chuckled to himself as he replied. The animal stood its ground, almost staring him down.

“Well, since you’re here, have you seen my friend? He actually shares some resemblance with you” Arthur chuckled louder, then stopped frowning as the animal stamped it’s hooves.

“Go on, get out of here” He raised his voice, but the animal did not budge. “I’m sure there’s some farmer or worker somewhere needing you, now clear on out of here. Go!” Arthur waved his arms to shoo the animal away but still, it started him down.

“Well you’d better not start following me, last thing I need is to be accused of having stolen you” Arthur grumbled, then began to chuckle once more, exclaiming “or actually, I’m bettin’ if I bring you on back to camp, no one will even notice the difference!” 

The animal opened it’s mouth and vocalised again, and Arthur could have sworn it sounded indignant.

He looked around once more, then sighing bent over to pick up John’s hat. He had half a mind to just leave it there, but wherever the man had got to, he’d not be impressed if Arthur left his hat and clothes behind in the dirt. 

Just as Arthur’s fingers reached the edge of the hat, it was suddenly snatched away between the teeth of the animal.

“What on, hey!” Arthur glared, and the animal glared back. “I’ve had quite enough of you, now get lost!” He snarled. The animal shook it’s head. Arthur stared. “I said, leave.” It shook it’s head again. Arthur rubbed a hand over his face, was he still drunk?

“I may be stupid but I’m not stupid enough to think you can understand me.” The animal stared hard at him. “Fine, if you can understand me, turn in a circle!” Arthur spluttered, barely believing that he had even asked. 

The animal turned in a perfect circle. Arthur stared at it, and at the hat in it’s mouth. It stomped it’s foot, dragging it to make lines in the dirt, as if deliberately. 

Arthur glanced down at the shape it had left drawn on the ground, and opened his mouth in disbelief.

J, and M. It had used it’s hooves to scratch a J and M in the dirt. Arthur stared at the donkey, his mouth agape.

“Marston?” He gasped, gasping again louder when the donkey nodded In response.

“Marston, you really are an ass!” Arthur spoke without humour, slowly processing the situation. The donkey brayed, and stomped it’s hooves on the ground. Suddenly, Arthur felt his legs give way and he thumped hard on to the dusty ground.

“Jus’ give me a damn moment.” He growled at the donkey, at Marston. “This is a lot to take in, Marston.”

The donkey brayed once more and Arthur made eye contact, “Well, I suppose it’s a lot for you to take in too. You’re a damn donkey!” Arthur frowned. “Hosea is gon’ kill me. And if we’re not careful, then Pearson will be killin’ you to put in the stew!” Arthur rambled, and Marston the donkey stamped his hooves once more.

“No, I know, we can’t go back to camp like, I’m not an idiot Marston.” Arthur scratched his chin, his brain still catching up with the baffling scenario. 

Suddenly he sprung to his feet, and John the donkey moved backwards in surprise of the sudden movement.

“That lady! It must have been that lady, Marston! From last night, and whatever the hell went on when her eyes went all strange.” Arthur exclaimed in excitement, but quickly his face clouded over and he glared at John the donkey. “Trust us to bump into a damn witch on what was meant to be a simple job! Well, lets hope she’s still in there, you wait here.” 

Arthur moved off towards the hotel once more.


	6. Finding the Witch

The floor creaked under his boots as he walked into the hotel bar. Arthur had always found bars to be peculiar places before noon, when they were too empty of people and too quiet of drunken noise.

He made his way to the back wall, where the barman was polishing glasses, humming away to himself.

“Eh excuse me, Sir?” Arthur bit down the bemusement and panic he was feeling at discovering the state of John and forced an impression of polite calmness as he addressed the barman. “I hope you’re doing well this morning, only I have a bit of an odd question for you.”

“Is that so? Nothing bad, I hope?” The barman eyed Arthur warily, but still continued to polish the glass in his hand.

“I don’t suppose you remember seeing me and my, eh, business partner, in here last night?”

“Why yes, I do. Was there some sort of problem with your service?” The barman furrowed his brow, seemingly expecting a complaint.

Arthur again forced himself to stay calm, and answered “no no, nutin’ like that, don’t you worry. Only, it seems we must have had a bit too much to drink, and I was hopin' that you could help fill in the blanks. The last I recall, we was sittin’ over there, chatting to the lady at the next table.”

“And you don’t remember anything after that?” The barman looked surprised.

“Not a damn thing, until I woke up this morning.” Arthur forced a sheepish smile. “Don’t suppose you remember seeing anything…odd?” 

The barman furrowed his brow once more, and in earnest he replied, “not at all, in fact I’m surprised to hear you say you had too much to drink. As far as I recall, you and your business partner seemed to enjoy your evening, and then got up and walked out at a still decent hour. There was nothing odd at all.” 

Arthur was stumped for a moment. He knew John and him had been arguing loudly, but then whatever that lady had done to them, she seemed to have made sure that no one else in the bar had been aware.

“Well then, I don’t suppose you could tell me who that lady was? Local, perhaps?” Arthur inquired hopefully.

“Can’t say I recognised her, she must have just been passing through. In fact she rented a room for the night, but left before dawn. Sorry, mister.” The barman silently dismissed Arthur as he turned his full attention back to his task of polishing.

Arthur scratched his chin, entirely flummoxed, and headed towards to the door. Right as he was about to leave, he heart a ‘pssst’, and turned towards it.

A lady sat at a booth with her back to Arthur, only half turning to address him, as if wanting no one to realise regardless of the place being half empty.

“I know who you mean. What business do you have with her?” She whispered loudly

“I just want to talk to her, is all.” Arthur held his hands up to show he meant no harm. The lady giggled, shaking her head.

“Well she ain’t one to talk, let me assure you.” She giggled again, speaking haughtily, “but then, who could blame her, being what she is. People do love to judge and gossip now, don’t they?”

Arthur resisted the temptation to point out that judging and gossiping seemed to be exactly what the lady was currently doing herself, instead he simply nodded and hummed in agreement.

“Folk like her, well, they’re better off keeping to themselves. Perhaps you’re better staying away, mister.” 

“Well eh, we have something very important to discuss you see. If you know who she is, could you tell me where she might’ve gone?” Arthur slipped his hand into his satchel, ready to bribe the women if need be. She giggled again, as if Arthur were some silly little boy.

“Very well then, she’ll be headed back to Strawberry, that’s where she lives see.”

“And how do I find her when I get there?”

“Well that’s easy, you just ask everywhere where their town witch is!” The lady bent over laughing, and Arthur left the hotel sullenly. 

So, it seemed that he and John had indeed managed to piss off a witch. Great.

Turning the corner the donkey, or rather Marston, was exactly where Arthur had left him. His large ears pricked up as Arthur got closer.

“So eh, I have good news, and not so good news.” Arthur started, Marston the donkey stamping hooves impatiently into the dirt. 

“Bad news, she isn’t still in there, but the good news is that I know where we should find her.”

Marston the donkey stared, and Arthur frowned a little because ridiculously, the donkeys eyes looked so like John’s. 

“The bad news it that unless we catch her up on the road, then we’re going to have to go all the way to Strawberry to find her. Also eh, bad or good news, I guess” 

Arthur started to mumble as his mind raced ahead to what exactly they were going to do when they found her, John braying snapped him back to the present. 

“Seems that she is a witch, so that’s good that she should be able to change you back, but bad because we have no idea whether or not she will. I guess first we gotta get there though.” 

Arthur looked around for a moment to see where their horses had got to, then suddenly a new problem hit him.

“And eh, Marston? You’re gon’ have to walk. Ain’t never seen no donkey ridin’ a horse before, so you’ll need to just follow on beside me on foot, or er on hooves.”

Braying loudly again, Arthur wasn’t sure whether it was in agreement or annoyance.

“This is going to be one hell of a trip.” Arthur mumbled to himself.


	7. A Man and a Donkey

Arthur was frustrated. He kept trying to remind himself that Marston must be frustrated too, suddenly finding himself being a donkey, but Arthurs sympathy didn’t stretch very far.

His horse was fast, and could have covered twice the distance that they’d been lumbered with thanks to Marston’s short donkey legs, and Arthur was far from impressed. Picking a good spot to stop for the night, he started setting up a tent and campfire. 

John the donkey brayed and shook his head in the direction of tent, seemingly annoyed.

“Marston, I ain’t setting you up a tent, you’re a damn donkey!” The braying got louder. “You’ve slept outside plenty as a man, you can do it tonight as a donkey.” Arthur said firmly, shoving the John the donkey away from the tent.

Settling down, Arthur took out some tins from his satchel to begin heating over the fire. Again, the obnoxiously loud braying begun.

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, trying desperately to remind himself that they had to make this journey, and he couldn’t abandon Marston as a donkey. As tempting as it was. 

“Marston, will you shut up?” The braying went on, “JOHN, will you be quiet?!” Arthur roared, and John the donkey did indeed quieten, staring at Arthur. 

“Look, I understand this must be difficult, but there ain’t much I can do about it. It don’t look like it’s going to rain, you’ll be fine sleeping outside. I can’t give you any of these beans or corned beef, I don’t think that’ll settle very well in a donkey stomach.” Arthur spoke calmly, and reasonably, and John the donkey dropped his head, looking dejected.

Arthur sighed again, this time he really did feel sorry for him.

“Look, I got some apples meant for the horses, how about one of them? Then eh, I guess you’d better try the grass?” John the donkey looked to nod his head and so Arthur fished an apple out the bag, going to toss it towards Marston but before he had the chance, they donkeys face was right up at him, eating straight from his hand.

He widened his eyes in surprise, and had to suddenly resist the urge to reach out with his other hand to stroke the donkey’s head, but John moved away towards the grass, seemingly enjoying as he scoffed it up.

Arthur settled himself in the grass, not minding the dampness of the morning dew, as he sipped some freshly brewed coffee. 

John the donkey was still fast asleep, and Arthur found he couldn’t draw his eyes away. He looked so peaceful and innocent, more so than the real John could ever look now. 

Sadness gripped Arthur as he sat considering the life that John had had, and the part Arthur had played in it. Had he let him down? Had he not been as good a brother as he should have?

Arthur sighed. He knew these weren’t problems he could deal with now, for now all he could do was get them both to Strawberry and find that damn witch to get John changed back.

Although, he had to admit that he had amused himself by conserving what would happen if they returned to camp like this. He could tell Jack that the donkey was a new pet and leave it at that. Amusing though the thought was, he knew it wasn’t an option.

“Right then, Marston” Arthur growled, “time to get movin’ now.” 

Soon they were on their way, John the donkey trotting alongside Arthur and his horse. A few hours in to their ride, Artur had started to sing softly, stopping as he suddenly remembered that he wasn’t alone. The only time he would sing in company was when he had been drinking, and he certainly didn’t want to hear John mocking him later.

Another hour of silence passed and Arthur was   
finding it tedious.

“You know Marston, I think this might be the quietest that you’ve ever been!”   
Arthur jokingly exclaimed. 

“You always were a mouthy little runt, weren’t ya? From the moment that Dutch brought you back to camp.” Arthur chuckled, mind soon filled with memories. 

“Do you remember that time when…”


	8. Riding a Donkey

Still a few hours away from Strawberry, suddenly Arthurs horse reared back, Arthur barely managing to stay in the saddle.

“What in the hell?” He exclaimed, looking around for a threat as John the Donkey began braying in panic. Arthur hadn’t had this horse too long, and was still bonding with the animal. It reared a second time and Arthur found himself falling, and then moving. Moving far too fast, at quite the wrong angle.

His foot had gotten stuck in the stirrup, painfully dragging him along behind the horse as it galloped along the trail. After a good forty or so yards, Arthur’s foot came free and he came tumbling to a stop, while the horse soon vanished from sight.

Arthur groaned. That had not felt good. He lay for a moment catching his breath, then went to stand. He swore as his ankle buckled beneath him, too injured to properly take his weight. He shuffled and limped to the side of the trail and sat down heavily, massaging the afflicted joint.

Soon he heard the clack of hooves as John the Donkey caught up with him, and for a moment he felt like chucking as he had never expected a donkeys face to have the ability to look so concerned. The humour soon vanished however, as he realised the seriousness of their predicament.

“We eh, we might have a problem here Marston.” He sighed heavily. “That horse, is long gone, and Strawberry is still a few hours away but there is no way in hell that I’m gon’ be able to walk.” 

He frowned as he tried to think of a plan. After a few moments he grudgingly accepted their only viable option. 

“Marston. I am going to have to ride you the rest of the way.”


	9. The Witch's House

Arthur tried hard not to think about how ridiculous they must look, a man of his size riding along on a damn donkey of all things. 

As humiliating as he found it, he was sure John the donkey must be ten times as annoyed about the situation, considering it was his back Arthur was currently sat upon.

“The sooner this is over, the better” Arthur mumbled as they bumped along.

His cheeks soon flushed red as they neared Strawberry, and were forced to ride past people gawking at the unusual sight. 

“Stop here, Marston” Arthur hissed, while they were still on the outskirts with few people around. 

“I’ll ask that man there, I’ve spoken to him before, he shouldn’t have any reason to lie.”

Arthur limped over to the butcher, a friendly enough fellow, and awkwardly asked him whether he knew anything about a town witch.

“Witch? Well, I’m not sure if that’s quite the phrasing we’d use, but we certainly have a somewhat...peculiar lady who lives nearby.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows as the butcher seemed to trail off, fishing in his pocket for some bank notes and sitting a wad out on the table. The butcher eyes them for a moment, then snatched them up greedily.

“You need to head up that hill back there and look around for her cabin, you won’t miss it, it’s just as unique as she is. Don’t tell her that I told you where to go though! She ain’t keen on visitors.”

Arthur nodded a thank you and turned to limp back towards John the donkey, then tried not to draw too much attention to the fact that he was speaking to a donkey like it were a man. 

“She’s close, we just need to go find her cottage and then I guess we hope she’s feeling charitable. For once I think I am going to have to ask nicely, don’t want to try threatin’ a damn witch!”

Arthur sighed heavily them clambered back onto John the donkeys back, pointing him towards the hill the butcher had indicated. 

They were close now, and Arthur could almost smell the return of normality.

Arthur again felt bad for John the donkey as he struggled going uphill with Arthur upon his back. Soon they reached the top and it didn’t take long to spot the cottage that the butcher had directed them to. It was quite something.

Going by the bright assortment of colours, Arthur could only hope that this were a good witch, who would happily return John back to normal. His eyes were drawn to the animals outside, whether stuffed or statues he could not be sure, but only hoped that they had not also once been men.

“Okay then, Marston, time to get you back to normal.” Arthur limped over the door, John the donkey on his heels, and knocked loudly. Then he knocked again.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Silence met them in response. “We don’t mean no harm, we just need to talk” Arthur did his best to sound reasonable, but annoyance bubbled up.

“Stay here” He whispered to John the donkey, then made his way around the cottage peering in the windows. He could see lit candles, and a roaring fireplace, so someone had to be home. Returning to the door he knocked again, more forcibly.

“We know you’re in there, now please, just open the door” Arthur begged, that bubbling annoyance soon turning to dread. What if they couldn’t get John the donkey turned back into a man? It hadn’t really occurred to him until that very moment that there was a possibility that John would be stuck this way forever.

John the donkey brayed loudly and Arthur turned to him with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry John, I jus’ dunno what else we can do, don’t seem like she’s any intention of answerin’ us.”

John the donkey brayed again, and hit the ground with his hooves, in clear distress. Arthurs heart ached and he turned to the door again with a steely determination.

“Ma’am listen, I know we may have gotten on your nerves in Rhodes, and I apologise, but we really need you to come an’ talk to us now.” Still they were met with silence. “Ma’am, my brother needs your help!” Arthur begged through the wood of the door.


	10. He's my Brother

Suddenly John the donkeys ears pricked, and Arthur turned his head as he too heard shuffling from inside the cottage.

“Brother, you say?” He heard a woman’s voice call out softly. 

“Yes ma’am, my brother, John.” Arthur tentatively replied.

“John, is it? Funny, in Rhodes, the only name you seemed to have for him was ‘ass’” The voice replied, giving no hint of sympathy. Arthur looked at John the donkey with worry, was the witch going to help them or not?

“Well, we’ve known each other a long time ma’am and brothers, well sometimes brothers fight. But I’d much rather be squabbling with a man than a donkey.”

“Well, in that case…” The door creaked as it was softly opened, and Arthur took a step back to allow the witch to step out.

“Much obliged, ma’am. I can pay you, as much as you want” Arthur started rambling but stopped as the witch’s eyes rolled back in her head, just like they had in Rhodes. For a moment he was fearful that she meant them more harm, then gasped as a bright light shone around John the donkey.

Braying soon turned into John’s husky voice rasping, “what in the hell?” as suddenly there he was, a man again.

Arthur and John’s eyes met and after a moment of stillness, they enveloped into a tight embrace. 

“I never thought I’d hear myself sayin’ this, but it is good to see your face” Arthur grinned. 

“Well that was quite sumthin’” John grinned back, “but how about we don’t tell anyone else about this?”

“What, us hugging and being nice to one another, or you being a literal ass for a few days?” Arthur chuckled.


End file.
